Post by Jules on Jul 24, 2012 15:28:38 GMT -4
The scene opens inside the home of Julius Farquhar. Today Julius has decided to venture on that new fangled device his maid called ‘the personal computer’, and he’s even had some tuition in using that extraordinary beacon of the sex trade, the interwebz. As he ‘surfs’ Julius is interrupted by his usual interlocutor, the once renowned APW reporter, Phil, who now seems to be permanently signed to this Quintessentially English backwater of the wrestling world.
Phil: What you up to, Jules?
Julius: I see that Reginald Schmidt, that vicious visage of vermin, has decided to go ahead with his despicable plot to endanger me.
Phil: How so?
Julius hands him a piece of paper that is in fact a printout of the next Asylum card.
Phil: I see. Streetfight with TJ; you must be, to coin an English phrase, cacking it.
Julius gives Phil a sharp look.
Julius: You are vulgar, Philip, of mind as well as in appearance. I am most certainly toilet trained, and I resent the metaphorical implications of your glib remark. I am a man steeled by purpose and destiny; fear has no jurisdiction in these walls.
Phil nods, then points at something behind Julius.
Phil: Is that a spider?
Julius springs out of his chair and quickly backs behind Phil.
Julius: WHERE! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!
Phil bursts into a chuckle, and Julius soon realises that has fallen prey to a practical joke.
Julius: You are a mean-spirited scoundrel, Philip. I am sure even your mother can trust to turn her back on you. To attack a man at the heart of his vulnerability, well, I say, it is just not cricket.
Phil: I’m just messing with you. Anyway, what are you doing? It’s not like you to make use of modern technology like laptops and the internet.
Julius: I am engaged in research, Philip. It seems that scantily clad secretary in personnel has refused to do business with me; she has even informed me that she does not even like tea. Lord knows what she has done with all those gifts of the good herb I sent her. Vis a vis, I am trying to research some information in preparation for my match.
Phil looks at the screen, Julius continues.
Julius: Actually, I say ‘my match’, but I intend on marching straight up to Reginald Schmidt in Las Vegas and making a formal protest. I am most offended that Reginald has entered into the spirit of that iniquitous city and is trying to engage me in some freak show; not to mention his gambling with my livelihood by booking me in a completely barbaric match. I say, he may as well put me in a ring with a couple of tigers in order to satiate the cannibalistic urges of the depraved audience we are certain to encounter.
Phil: Yeah, yeah...but why are you researching hippology? Are you thinking of heading down to the tracks while in Las Vegas? Maybe buying a horse?
Julius: Heaven forbid! The only sport I gamble on is a head-bashing battle between two Scottish brutes. I say, there is no experience like seeing the simultaneous popping open of their bone-filled heads.
Phil gives Julius a peculiar look.
Julius: If you must ask this is research that pertains to my match this week. If I am unable to twist Reginald’s arm, then I may be forced to break it, and if that does not work, well, I guess it would not hurt a thruppenny bit to be prepared for that brute.
Phil: Okay, that is all well and good, but why horses? I don’t understand.
Julius: Well that is his name, correct? “The Soul of a Filly” Teejay.
Phil furrows his brow; he’s not following this at all.
Julius: I say, why anyone would think of giving themselves a name pertaining to young female horse is a concern beyond my understanding. I do not try to understand the ways of villains, it is beyond my capacity as the only Quintessentially English wrestler in the world, but I have been reading up on these brutes and I now feel more fully acquainted with the ways and methods of ‘breaking them in’ as the experts put it.
Phil tries to interject, but Julius is having none of it.
Julius: I think I adopt the carrot and the stick approach: I intend to beat this horse-lover down with the stick and gouge his eyes out with the carrot. That seems more than adequate to my mind; then I will ride him on a pony on Brighton beach, except there will be no treat laying in wait for his obedience, just a Quintessentially English thrashing.
Phil, scratching the back of his head, replies nervously.
Phil: I think you’ve misunderstood, Jules.
Jules: I beg your pardon!
Phil: Well, it’s, uh...
Julius: Well, go on, speak up old boy!
Phil: I think you’ve got the wrong end of the, er, stick. It’s ‘The Soul of Philly’; P-H-I-L-L-Y.
Julius: I think you will find it is F-I-L-L-Y. Look, it says it right here on my screen.
Phil face palms.
Phil: No, he is not referring to ‘Filly’ as in a young mare; he’s referring to ‘Philly’, it’s an abbreviation for the city of Philadelphia, you know, in the state of Pennsylvania.
Julius: Oh...
The Tap Out Champion says as the penny drops and he reclines in his seat.
Julius: I just thought he had some odd fascination with Black Beauty. What is ‘The Soul of Philly’? What does that mean?
Phil: It means, well, it means a toughness of spirit, a stoic nature, and a never say quit attitude, brotherly love and good will to all men. That’s what they say about the people of Philadelphia, blue collar, democratic values and all that jazz. You know, like you call yourself ‘Quintessentially English’ because you embody, in your head, Englishness, TJ sees himself as representing the soul of Philadelphia.
Julius: I think I liked him better when he wanted to be a horse.
Phil: There was never a time he wanted to be a horse – that was your misunderstanding!
Julius sinks into thought for a few moments, then he becomes animated.
Julius: Okay, enough of this horsing around Philip, it is a mere distraction. Shame on you!
Phil cannot prevent his jaw from dropping with shock.
Julius: Now, let me get on with the business of addressing this brute. TJ, Philly, Filly, whatever you want to call yourself or think of yourself as it doesn’t matter because on Sunday, if I am forced to go through this with venture that is, quite frankly, beyond the realms of decency, the only significant fact about you is that you will be a loser.
Julius: Let me make this perfectly clear for you TJ: when you interrupted by high brow wrestling clinic many weeks ago you sowed seeds whose fruit contains the poison that will end your ill-gotten career as a professional wrestler. I know you boys on Meltdown think you can take a step-up and dance the cha-cha-cha with us breakdancers *Phil pulls a face at that odd juxtaposition of ideas* but that just stinks of the ingratitude of the youth of America today.
Julius: In the old days a young rookie such as yourself would have expected to wash out my jock strap and help me into my tights, but now you march on in and start demanding shots at the biggest and baddest animals in the land. I know you have a thing for horses, TJ, but never forget that I am an eagle, and you are really a pig. I will not lecture you on the finer details of eagles and pigs, but know this: pigs cannot fly no matter how hard they try.
Phil buries his head in his hands.
Julius: I am making it clear right now that I have absolutely no intention stepping into the ring with you, TJ, and I will not tolerate any of your horse play this time around. When I arrive in Las Vegas the first stop I will be making is to Reginald Schmidt’s office in order to have this charade stopped before you get hurt. I know they are fond of the circus in Las Vegas, but I have always believed the only animals you should hunt are those that roam on your own land, and I never thought of harming a horse.
Julius: I am the current TAP OUT Champion. Do you know what that means, TJ? It means nobody can live inside the ring with me. It means I made our World Champion tap and cry in the manner of a child. It means I bend men and women to my will through the sheer force of my technique.
Julius: TJ, you may think you have some kind of spirit inside of you, but I know that blue blood courses through my veins, Quintessentially English blood, which means I am a better stock, a better breed. If this were a race I would be home already by several furlongs, and you, you dopey disobedient mare, never mind pasture, you would be on your way to the Knacker’s Yard.
Julius: This Sunday, TJ, unless Reginald Schmidt relents and saves you, there is a lesson you will learn, a lesson everyone must learn.
PAY HOMAGE TO THE QUINTESSENTIALLY ENGLISH EMPIRE!
Phil: What you up to, Jules?
Julius: I see that Reginald Schmidt, that vicious visage of vermin, has decided to go ahead with his despicable plot to endanger me.
Phil: How so?
Julius hands him a piece of paper that is in fact a printout of the next Asylum card.
Phil: I see. Streetfight with TJ; you must be, to coin an English phrase, cacking it.
Julius gives Phil a sharp look.
Julius: You are vulgar, Philip, of mind as well as in appearance. I am most certainly toilet trained, and I resent the metaphorical implications of your glib remark. I am a man steeled by purpose and destiny; fear has no jurisdiction in these walls.
Phil nods, then points at something behind Julius.
Phil: Is that a spider?
Julius springs out of his chair and quickly backs behind Phil.
Julius: WHERE! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!
Phil bursts into a chuckle, and Julius soon realises that has fallen prey to a practical joke.
Julius: You are a mean-spirited scoundrel, Philip. I am sure even your mother can trust to turn her back on you. To attack a man at the heart of his vulnerability, well, I say, it is just not cricket.
Phil: I’m just messing with you. Anyway, what are you doing? It’s not like you to make use of modern technology like laptops and the internet.
Julius: I am engaged in research, Philip. It seems that scantily clad secretary in personnel has refused to do business with me; she has even informed me that she does not even like tea. Lord knows what she has done with all those gifts of the good herb I sent her. Vis a vis, I am trying to research some information in preparation for my match.
Phil looks at the screen, Julius continues.
Julius: Actually, I say ‘my match’, but I intend on marching straight up to Reginald Schmidt in Las Vegas and making a formal protest. I am most offended that Reginald has entered into the spirit of that iniquitous city and is trying to engage me in some freak show; not to mention his gambling with my livelihood by booking me in a completely barbaric match. I say, he may as well put me in a ring with a couple of tigers in order to satiate the cannibalistic urges of the depraved audience we are certain to encounter.
Phil: Yeah, yeah...but why are you researching hippology? Are you thinking of heading down to the tracks while in Las Vegas? Maybe buying a horse?
Julius: Heaven forbid! The only sport I gamble on is a head-bashing battle between two Scottish brutes. I say, there is no experience like seeing the simultaneous popping open of their bone-filled heads.
Phil gives Julius a peculiar look.
Julius: If you must ask this is research that pertains to my match this week. If I am unable to twist Reginald’s arm, then I may be forced to break it, and if that does not work, well, I guess it would not hurt a thruppenny bit to be prepared for that brute.
Phil: Okay, that is all well and good, but why horses? I don’t understand.
Julius: Well that is his name, correct? “The Soul of a Filly” Teejay.
Phil furrows his brow; he’s not following this at all.
Julius: I say, why anyone would think of giving themselves a name pertaining to young female horse is a concern beyond my understanding. I do not try to understand the ways of villains, it is beyond my capacity as the only Quintessentially English wrestler in the world, but I have been reading up on these brutes and I now feel more fully acquainted with the ways and methods of ‘breaking them in’ as the experts put it.
Phil tries to interject, but Julius is having none of it.
Julius: I think I adopt the carrot and the stick approach: I intend to beat this horse-lover down with the stick and gouge his eyes out with the carrot. That seems more than adequate to my mind; then I will ride him on a pony on Brighton beach, except there will be no treat laying in wait for his obedience, just a Quintessentially English thrashing.
Phil, scratching the back of his head, replies nervously.
Phil: I think you’ve misunderstood, Jules.
Jules: I beg your pardon!
Phil: Well, it’s, uh...
Julius: Well, go on, speak up old boy!
Phil: I think you’ve got the wrong end of the, er, stick. It’s ‘The Soul of Philly’; P-H-I-L-L-Y.
Julius: I think you will find it is F-I-L-L-Y. Look, it says it right here on my screen.
Phil face palms.
Phil: No, he is not referring to ‘Filly’ as in a young mare; he’s referring to ‘Philly’, it’s an abbreviation for the city of Philadelphia, you know, in the state of Pennsylvania.
Julius: Oh...
The Tap Out Champion says as the penny drops and he reclines in his seat.
Julius: I just thought he had some odd fascination with Black Beauty. What is ‘The Soul of Philly’? What does that mean?
Phil: It means, well, it means a toughness of spirit, a stoic nature, and a never say quit attitude, brotherly love and good will to all men. That’s what they say about the people of Philadelphia, blue collar, democratic values and all that jazz. You know, like you call yourself ‘Quintessentially English’ because you embody, in your head, Englishness, TJ sees himself as representing the soul of Philadelphia.
Julius: I think I liked him better when he wanted to be a horse.
Phil: There was never a time he wanted to be a horse – that was your misunderstanding!
Julius sinks into thought for a few moments, then he becomes animated.
Julius: Okay, enough of this horsing around Philip, it is a mere distraction. Shame on you!
Phil cannot prevent his jaw from dropping with shock.
Julius: Now, let me get on with the business of addressing this brute. TJ, Philly, Filly, whatever you want to call yourself or think of yourself as it doesn’t matter because on Sunday, if I am forced to go through this with venture that is, quite frankly, beyond the realms of decency, the only significant fact about you is that you will be a loser.
Julius: Let me make this perfectly clear for you TJ: when you interrupted by high brow wrestling clinic many weeks ago you sowed seeds whose fruit contains the poison that will end your ill-gotten career as a professional wrestler. I know you boys on Meltdown think you can take a step-up and dance the cha-cha-cha with us breakdancers *Phil pulls a face at that odd juxtaposition of ideas* but that just stinks of the ingratitude of the youth of America today.
Julius: In the old days a young rookie such as yourself would have expected to wash out my jock strap and help me into my tights, but now you march on in and start demanding shots at the biggest and baddest animals in the land. I know you have a thing for horses, TJ, but never forget that I am an eagle, and you are really a pig. I will not lecture you on the finer details of eagles and pigs, but know this: pigs cannot fly no matter how hard they try.
Phil buries his head in his hands.
Julius: I am making it clear right now that I have absolutely no intention stepping into the ring with you, TJ, and I will not tolerate any of your horse play this time around. When I arrive in Las Vegas the first stop I will be making is to Reginald Schmidt’s office in order to have this charade stopped before you get hurt. I know they are fond of the circus in Las Vegas, but I have always believed the only animals you should hunt are those that roam on your own land, and I never thought of harming a horse.
Julius: I am the current TAP OUT Champion. Do you know what that means, TJ? It means nobody can live inside the ring with me. It means I made our World Champion tap and cry in the manner of a child. It means I bend men and women to my will through the sheer force of my technique.
Julius: TJ, you may think you have some kind of spirit inside of you, but I know that blue blood courses through my veins, Quintessentially English blood, which means I am a better stock, a better breed. If this were a race I would be home already by several furlongs, and you, you dopey disobedient mare, never mind pasture, you would be on your way to the Knacker’s Yard.
Julius: This Sunday, TJ, unless Reginald Schmidt relents and saves you, there is a lesson you will learn, a lesson everyone must learn.
PAY HOMAGE TO THE QUINTESSENTIALLY ENGLISH EMPIRE!
